How shall thy beauty become thy curse
Through abandoned rooms thee pace unheard
Thy glory gone, thee long for peace
But cursed thy breath, of terror shrieks
Alone thee travel, lacking grit, thee cannot bear
But a weary I as well can't share
Thy battle's lost, thee shall not win
But it was long since told, and I have seen
For that I mourn and rhyme this keen
I saw thee falling, strong yet mean
And sad it be - thee're but sixteen

מוקדש לשני, בתקווה.